


MDB

by chelseyelric



Category: Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja
Genre: Dancing, Disco AU, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, disco legend Howard, go go dancer Randy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 23:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10581489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseyelric/pseuds/chelseyelric
Summary: In the late 1970's, disco was at its peak. Howard goes with Doug to a hot club called MDB and Howard isn't all that impressed until he sees an angel dancing above him in a cage.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Wow. Okay, so...I've kinda been working on this monster for about a year and a half now. XD It was originally intended to be a birthday present for my friend IJ on tumblr but when we lost touch, this sort of moved to the back of my mind.
> 
> But guess what! I've found them again and I've been reinspired! 
> 
> I couldn't get this idea out of my head since trying to somehow mix a stripper/dancer AU with Howard's pompadour. X3
> 
> Please enjoy reading this fic about gogo dancing just coming into style and a disco legend who falls hard for the first gogo dancer he sees.

"It's so totally far out, Howard! Just you wait! MDB has anything and everything you can think of! Chicks, drinks, blow, whatever!"

As the pair walked down a secluded section of street, Howard rolled his eyes for the fifth time in as many minutes, feeling like they just might fall out of his head.

"I know, Doug!" he said, enunciating the name hatefully. "You say that about every disco you bring me to. The only difference is that you haven't stopped talking about this particular place since Tuesday. Could you, maybe, stay quiet until we actually get there?"

The brunette suddenly stopped in his tracks, causing his many gaudy chains and medallions to clink together. "But we're already here." And to Howard's surprise they were. 

Doug's chatter had distracted him as they'd walked, but now that he paid attention, Howard could easily see and hear evidence of a disco club nearby. Groups of girls passed them in a cloud of perfume on their way into the building marked 'MDB', talking loudly about their plans for the night ahead. Their hair was teased up and curled, their clothes were bright and tight and their make-up was almost as loud as the funkadelic dance music pouring into the streets. Men in equally flashy suits either followed close behind or stopped a few stragglers, trying to impress the ladies in hopes of getting lucky that night.

Howard spotted a few people covered head to toe in body glitter and one guy in obvious drag, but that was to be expected. A disco was the kind of place where the more you stood out, the more likely you were to fit in. Howard's kind of people.

The redhead adjusted his favorite white jacket with real gold trim, something he did religiously before entering any dance club for good luck. Tonight would be great. He could just feel it.

"I mean it, Howard. They have everything!"

And there went Howard's good vibes.

"Dude, seriously. I heard you. Lead the way and show me what's oh-so-magical about this place."

Doug giddily complied, eager to please. His navy blue, form fitting one piece squeaked a bit as he walked through the door with Howard following close on his heels. Not that he wanted to be. Doug was literally the most annoying, rude, shoobtastic human being that he had ever met, but Howard had to admit that his coworker had all of the hook-ups at the best night clubs in New York.

The cool night air, combined with the heat of the inside of the building, whipped at Howard's hair and collar as he entered. Quickly checking his appearance, Howard was relieved to find that his lime green shirt collar was still high and his signature pompadour higher. Nothing out of place. 

Good. He'd spent enough time that night getting ready.

He and Doug strolled casually through the darkened room toward the outer edge of the source of all of the lights and sounds, the epicenter of any disco: the dance floor. Also known as Howard's home. The clock just having struck 11pm had MDB in full swing. Drinks were flowing freely, some people snuck into the back to catch a quick high and couples covered in pulsing strobe lights and spandex shook what their mamas had given them. Already, the redhead was just itching to show off, his hips unconsciously gyrating to the beat, but he had to know.

"Why were you so hyped up about this place, Doug?" He yelled to be heard, the man's name slipping past his lips like a curse. "This hang doesn't seem any different than any other."

The bespeckled man looked quizzically down at Howard. "You mean you haven't noticed?"

Defensively, Howard whipped his head around, trying and failing to see anything possibly out of the ordinary.

"No." He finally huffed.

"I thought it was obvious. This place has go-go dancers."

"What are go-go dancers?" Howard huffed again, hating that Doug knew more than him about anything, only for Doug to point upward.

Raising curious brown eyes, the redhead saw two cages suspended just above the dance floor which he'd mistaken as some kind of weird decorations. Upon taking the time to actually look, Howard noticed that they contained people, a guy in the left rig and a girl in the right, who were barely dressed and dancing along with the music.

Howard scoffed derisively. "Well, that's dumb. What's the point of having random dancers over a room full of other dancers and a dance floor? Seems kinda redund-"

His train of thought came to a screeching hault, his jaw going slack as he swore he saw lust incarnate above and to the left of him. The most beautiful angel Howard had ever seen was suddenly haloed in too bright light. A thin pair of what looked to be wings extended to either side of their body...until he realized that it was simply a well placed spotlight shining behind an incredibly long, blood red scarf around the dancer's neck.

The man had short, dark hair that became a large set of bangs which he continually flipped out of his striking eyes. The dancer was scantily clad in only an incredibly short, incredibly tight pair of black shorts and was moving so sinfully it almost made Howard ashamed to watch. The scarf that graced his slender neck draped down to the backs of his knees where the tops of his high boots clung. Oddly enough, the part of the boot that encased the foot seemed to be a teardrop shape, the toe coming to a point while the heel became flat, wide and rounded. Despite the footwear's strange appearance, they actually looked incredible on him. 

It all did.

The song that had been playing ended and the disc jockey faded it seamlessly into the next. This, apparently, made the caged man very happy because he began dancing a bit harder than he had been only a moment earlier. 

He seemed to specifically enjoy shimmying.

Howard seemed to enjoy him enjoying shimmying.

"Who's that?" Howard asked, completely enraptured.

"The lanky dude and the smokin' chick are friends of a girl I know: Debbie. Her pops owns this joint." Doug sounded as if he were trying to brag, but Howard hardly acknowledged him, keeping his gaze trained on the left cage.

"Man, you're not, like, diggin' on that guy, are you?" Doug asked over the near deafening sounds, disgust heavy in his tone and on his face.

And there went Howard's good vibes for the second time. 

Honestly, did this jerk thrive off of ruining others happiness? Where did this jelly head get off judging his life style when the only time Doug was ever sober was to barely get by at his two days a week at work?

Tearing himself away from his ogling and forcing himself to take a deep, calming breath so as not to cause a scene, Howard coolly replied, "Of course not. I just wanted to ask about his killer dance moves. Ain't no thang."

It took nearly all of his concentration to not deck the idiot in the face when Doug gave a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. Cause that would be total grossness! I'm gonna head to the back and see what kind of 'party favors' they have."

And with that, the blond excitedly cut through the crowd, leaving Howard to himself.

No words could describe just how much he despised Doug, but Howard tried to push it from his mind. There were far prettier things that required his attention at the moment.

The dark angel continued to shake enticingly while he watched and moved forward to easily meld into the crowd. As a seasoned pro, Howard knew that forcing yourself onto the center of the floor wasn't what got you noticed, your skills did, so he took his position on the left side of the dance floor and made absolutely certain that he was in the dancer's direct line of sight. The redhead rolled his shoulders and moved his neck here and there before he finally just let go and gave his body over to the music.

He grooved and danced and boogied down under the shimmering mirrored ball for what felt like hours, eventually drawing a flock of admiring onlookers, but they didn't matter to him. For the first time in a long time, Howard only cared what one person in particular thought...and he couldn't seem to catch his eye. 

He would look and the dancer would be turned around.

He would look and the dancer would have his fringe in his eyes.

He would look and the dancer would be trying to communicate with his friend in the other cage.

Eventually, insecurity wormed its way into Howard's mind. Maybe it wasn't a series of coincidences that he couldn't grab their attention. Maybe the guy knew what was going on and was just politely ignoring him.

He shook his head to clear it. No way that that was possible. 

But just in case, he decided to stop trying to make eye contact for a while. 

The beat. 

He tried to focus solely on the beat. On the ebb and flow of the crowd and the rapidly changing colored lights, not on the pretty boy suspended in mid-air. Song after song passed, the people on the floor around him circulating and changing to the tones of Earth, Wind and Fire and the Bee Gee's, until finally, enough time had passed that Howard's curiosity couldn't be denied any longer.

As he stopped to catch his breath, the redhead glanced up hopefully...at an empty cage. 

He wanted not to care, he really did, but...it was sort of a major bummer.

With a sigh of exasperation, suddenly craving copious amounts of comfort food and alcohol, he made to walk the few feet off of the dance floor when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. A fan wanting to catch a quick dance with him, no doubt, but he just wasn't in the mood anymore. Howard turned to face whoever it was to try and let them down easy.

"Look, I'm flattered but I'm taking a br-"

He stopped, unable to breathe. It was the caged angel in all of his bare chested glory! He was so much thinner and more beautiful up close.

"Nice moves," he said confidently, his voice ghosting over Howard like silk despite the surrounding distractions. The ravenette towered over Howard while swaying his slender hips to the lights and sounds. "I'm Randy."

The stocky man almost choked on his tongue, not believing that this guy could be so straightforward! But when he saw little to no mischief in his eyes, which he noticed were an icy blue and dusted with lavender eyeshadow, he understood that 'Randy' must have been this fox's name and not how he was feeling. Ironic.

"Thanks," Howard called back, trying to convince himself that the other man couldn't tell that his voice had cracked with all of the building's noise. "I'm Howard. What are you doing here?"

Randy looked confused. "Like, in the disco 'here' or on the dance floor 'here?'"

Howard couldn't help but smile. "Dance floor 'here.'"

Randy returned his smile a hundred fold in a way that Howard found was almost definitely very bad for his heart. 

"I'm on break and...your friend Doug said you wanted to meet me," Randy said, looking decidedly uncomfortable, as if the sentence were as hard to get out as it was being around the real Doug.

The redhead scrunched his face in distaste, saying, "Dream on! That guy isn't my friend."

"Thank God! That's such a relief, 'cause that dude's a total creep."

Howard couldn't help but laugh, liking this guy more and more. "I know it, man. He's just a guy from work who knows all the brucest clubs."

One dark eyebrow raised in question. "Brucest?"

"Yeah. Like, coolest. Most rad."

The go-go dancer tilted his head curiously, shifting his bangs. He probably didn't mean to be so constantly distracting, so Howard tried not to hold it against him. "Then why not just say that?"

Howard cleared his throat. "Because that's boring, man. Everyone uses those words. Everyone knows them. I'm trying to make my own hip new lingo."

Seeming to accept his answer, Randy just shrugged and asked, "So, why does he think that this is one of the 'brucest' clubs?"

"Because of y-," the redhead's voice and eyes trailed off, now hyper aware of Randy's gaze on him. "He says it's because of the go-go dancers here."

Randy pumped his fists excitedly in the air. "Most excellent! Then word's getting around!" His dancing suddenly picked up in intensity and Howard had to remind himself to keep breathing. In and out. "Oh, yeah. Break time's almost over." The ravenette mumbled, stopping his movement. "You wanted me to show you some moves, right? That's what the creep said, anyway."

"Y-yeah, totally."

"I mean...," Randy looked him up and down, disbelieving. "From what I saw, your moves looked great already. But if you insist, I'll show you some of mine from up there if you throw back some of your own."

Howard nodded. "It's a deal."

With that, he watched as Randy strode confidently away, effortlessly cutting through the crowd as his scarf fluttered silently behind him.

Howard's heart was pounding so hard in his chest and ears and throat that he was almost certain that everyone would be able to hear it over the heavy bass, but no one seemed to be giving him concerned looks. He hoped that was a good sign. 

As he watched the cage lower and his angel climb inside and rise, Howard felt his good vibes renewing themselves.

He couldn't keep Randy waiting.


	2. Chapter 2

Howard tapped an unknown rhythm on the glass bar top of MDB as he anxiously waited alone. It was late...or maybe early. Whatever someone called 3am. 

The dance floor had just closed for the night, giving the building an eerily quiet atmosphere after all of its previous activity. He hadn't seen Doug since when they'd first arrived and, in all honesty, he didn't give a hot damn if he never saw him again. The burn out was probably still coming down from his high in the back somewhere. 

The only person that Howard cared about seeing was his angel, Randy.

After the longest, most intense dance-off that Howard could remember being a part of and a raucous applause from the other spectators, the ravenette had motioned from his perch above that he wanted to meet up once he was done working. Howard had suggested, using his own form of body language, to meet at the bar and Randy had happily agreed.

That had been over a half hour ago. Luckily, the connecting bar wouldn't stop serving for another hour, but...

Had he misunderstood and Randy had already left? Had he just been being polite to Howard in accepting his offer and had decided to back out at the last minute?

No, Howard argued with his, apparently very pessimistic, brain. The dancer would be here. He just had to be patient. Good vibes, he chanted internally. Good vibes.

Feeling a bit calmer, he gazed at the specials board hanging next to the bartender, who was vigilantly tidying his work area, and decided that the drink with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, root beer and that new Baileys Irish cream liquor sounded pretty great.

"Can I get one of those? The root beer float thing?" Howard asked pointing to the drink's description. The large man with dark, slicked-back hair looked Howard up and down briefly, his steely eyes focussing hard on him, but nodded in the end, silently setting to work gathering the necessary supplies.

"I'll have one, too, Jim," came a sultry voice from behind Howard, this time without the bass and conversations distorting it. Howard whipped his head around as Randy took a seat beside him on a well worn bar stool. The ravenette was blotting at his forehead with a towel, fresh sweat beaded all over his creamy skin from face to chest. Howard tried his hardest not to stare, turning instead back to 'Jim.' 

"Two, please."

The bartender nodded in affirmation and continued about his task while Randy draped the towel haphazardly across his shoulders. His scarf was nowhere to be seen.

"Why so sweaty?" Howard couldn't help but ask. Sure, he broke a sweat whenever he danced, but never like that. Plus, he was wearing more layers than this guy.

"The lights," Randy explained as Jim clinked silverware and ingredients into their glasses. "They only get hotter as the night goes on and I'm literally right under them. The heat rising up from the dance floor doesn't help, either."

The redhead shrugged, embarrassed at the obvious logic. "Oh, yeah. I guess that makes sense. My bad."

Randy smiled reassuringly. "S'alright. I don't care if it gets hot up there. It's still my favorite place to be."

In no time, the bartender placed their orders in front of them and both began sipping at the frosty treat gratefully. 

"So? Did you like them?" Randy questioned.

Howard let his mind wander to all of the things he liked about this guy: his hips, his legs, his eyes. But he was probably talking about his dance moves.

"Yeah, they were the cheese."

Randy almost spit out his drink, barely managing to cover his mouth with his slender fingers. "Oh, God! It almost came out my nose!" he chuckled, using his towel to wipe at the mess he'd created in his hand. "The cheese? Is that, like, another one of your new phrases?"

Howard blushed but attempted to keep a confident look on his reddening face. "Yeah. What of it?"

Randy got his laughter under control and took another sip of his float, prompting Howard to do the same. "Nothing, nothing. It's just...I could understand 'bruce' meaning 'cool.' You know, like Bruce Lee. But 'the cheese?' I don't get that one. It's mondo creative."

Howard laughed good-naturedly, seeing that the dancer meant no harm. "If you stick with me, you'll be using my words like they were your first language in no time...um, Randy."

He tried to cover his awkward pause by taking large gulps of his drink, hoping that brain freeze would kick in so they could change the subject, but Randy had obviously heard it. "Why'd you say my name like that?"

The redhead swallowed what was in his cheeks. 

Busted. 

"N-no reason, it just reminds me of...something. What's your full name, if you don't mind me asking. We technically haven't been properly introduced." Yes! Perfect! Nothing weird about that, right?

Randy gave him a look that he couldn't quite read, but ended up finishing his drink. The ravenette extended a large graceful hand in Howard's direction. "I'm Randall Cunningham, professional dancer. Most people call me 'Randy.' And you?"

Howard took the offered hand in his noticeably smaller one. He liked how they fit together and didn't care that Randy's grip was still a little sticky from his earlier spit take. "Howard Weinerman, video game design."

Before he knew what was happening, Randy pulled him forward by their connected hands, startling him. "Far out! I mean...totally bruce?"

Howard gave a shaky laugh, recovering from his initial shock. "Now you're gettin' it!" He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled enough money from his wallet for his and Randy's drinks before standing from his stool. "Walk you out?"

Randy stood as well, dwarfing Howard in comparison. "How about you walk me home? You can give me the skinny on your sweet gig at the game design company!"

Howard's heart stuttered in his chest at the prospect of going home with his dark angel, but scratched the back of his neck as he allowed the poor muscle time to recover. "Can do."

He watched Randy excitedly dart to a hall in the back corner and return a few minutes later with a bag slung over his shoulder, his scarf back on his neck and a thin jacket covering his almost naked body.

Good. More clothing was good. Easier for Howard to think that way.

The redhead held the exit door open wide and the odd pair left, both slipping into excited chatter and hardly noticing the chill of the crisp autumn air as they walked. 

It was amazing! They couldn't seem to stop spilling every part of their lives to the almost perfect stranger beside them. It felt as if they'd always known each other. They talked about work, their childhoods, Randy's possible crush on his fellow cage dancer, named Theresa Fowler (much to Howard's dismay), other famous disco clubs like Leviticus and Studio 54 and their favorite things to do in their free time, until, sadly and surprisingly, Randy stopped at the end of Howard's block. 

"Well," the ravenette said. "This is me."

Howard burst into uproarious laughter almost collapsing onto the street.

Almost.

Wouldn't want to get his favorite jacket dirty. He settled for kneeling.

"What's funny?" Randy demanded, not knowing what was going on.

Howard pointed a short ways up the street, feeling overwhelmed by happiness and what was probably fate. "Th-that's me!"

Randy's blue eyes widened. "No way!"

"Yes way!"

Randy found himself laughing, too. "That's totally bruce!" 

Was it possible to have your insides liquefy pleasantly? Because Howard could have sworn that that was what happened to him when he heard those words pass Randy's lips. He quickly sobered up. "It so is. Now I'm not so bummed about having to leave."

"Same here. So...will I see you back at MDB?"

"Oh, most definitely," Howard confirmed without missing a beat. "I think I'll make that place my new hang."

"I'm glad," Randy said, brushing some hair from his face. Howard felt star struck but tried to reel it in. Randy was straight. And he liked someone else.

The two looked at each other for another moment before Randy broke the heavy silence. "I...really should get going. Thanks for the drink. See you soon, Howard."

"Back attcha...Randy."

"Stop that," the taller man said, voice suddenly hard.

"Stop what?"

"Forcing yourself to say my name." Randy gripped his upper arm in an obvious sign of insecurity, his scarf fluttering gently in the breeze. "If you don't want to, you can call me something else."

"It's not that," Howard insisted. "It's just that it-"

"'Reminds you of something else,'" Randy finished, parroting Howard's earlier explanation."I know. And it's okay. I'm not mad or anything. Just call me whatever, man. Seriously."

Howard still felt pretty guilty, not wanting to put his new definitely-just-a-friend in such a weird position, but it was probably necessary if they were ever going to speak normally. He thought hard about it. What else could he call him?

"Um...how about Cunningham?"

Randy's eyebrows drew together, a strange look on his face. "Huh. I've...never had anyone call me that. I think I like it."

Howard felt some of his guilt fade, pride taking its place. "Oh, good. Well, catch you on the flip, then, Cunningham.

Randy's cheeks darkened ever so slightly. "You too, Howard."

And with that, the dancer made the short trek up his apartment's outer stairs to the entrance and was gone. 

Howard sighed into the almost darkness, his breath fogging in the light of the overhead street lamps. 

"I've got it bad," he confessed to the night sky and continued walking to his own building.


	3. Chapter 3

Howard had been surprised when he'd found out that the disco would be needing a bouncer, but over the past two months or so, MDB's popularity seemed to skyrocket. Apparently it had something to do with rumors of the beautiful people dancing in the air. 

Randy had made sure to keep the redhead well informed about the change, assuring him that since he was not only a recognized regular, but would also be personally invited every night by one of the performers, it would be simple for him to get in. The first time, Howard had been a bit worried. The second time, he'd felt awkward. But from the third time onward, Howard was strolling confidently to the head of the incredibly long line to get into MDB. 

He greeted Jim, who seemed much happier with his job change to bouncer if the slight twinkle in his normally cold eyes was anything to go by. Once the ex-bartender waived him through, Howard could hear a few people in line groan in envy and frustration, but he hardly paid the haters any mind. 

Same reaction, different day. He adjusted his lucky jacket and stepped inside.

The night was well under way, light and people pulsating to the funky beat on and surrounding the dance floor. And at their core were the go go dancers. 

Randy excitedly waved at him when their eyes met, making Howard's heart involuntarily swell, and simulated a fist bump. That was their new thing: fist bumping. But since they were currently so far away from each other, he simply returned it via the air. With a grin, the dancer above straightened his arms and curled his fingers toward himself, inviting Howard to start their weekly dance-off.

From there, things moved like clockwork. 

Howard was the embodiment of confidence. After taking his usual place on the left side of the dance floor, he would roll his body from motion to motion for minutes on end. Even if he occasionally messed up, no one could prove it because he would seamlessly meld it into another dance move which he would then execute perfectly, causing people around him on the dance floor to fully pause and watch.

As his portion of song ended, Howard pointed toward Randy, welcoming any competition he had to offer.

Randy, in contrast, was the epitome of grace, fluidly moving his body in perfect sync to the music, mirroring Howard's moves as if it were as easy as breathing. He was grinning from ear to ear, obviously loving copying his best friend and displaying what else he could do. 

This exchange went on for a few hours until Randy's work break midway through the night. The spectators gave disappointed groans, wanting to see what more the two masters had to give, but they were all assured that both Randy and Howard would return after a short breather. 

The pair snuck, excited and out of breath, into the VIP section where they grabbed a quick bite to eat and talked about what they'd learned from watching Step By Step the night before. Before they knew it, their food was gone and it was time to heed the dance floors siren song again until the club finally closed.

"Two Bailey's Floats, Samantha," Howard requested, trying to slow his heart rate as he took a seat at the bar and waited for Randy to change. The new blonde bartender nodded with a smile, long since learning the redhead's weekly drink order of choice.

It wasn't long before the glasses were filled. As he sipped, slender arms drew Howard into a hug from behind. "That was so much fun!" Randy cried, his breath ghosting past the shorter man's attentive ear. Howard couldn't help but blush as he felt the ravenette's lean form mold to his much wider back, but tried to disguise it with a nervous laugh. 

"I know, you shoob. Get off of me. My drink's gonna spill." Howard attempted to dislodge him, but not hard enough to actually mean it. "Did you manage to get that raise?"

Randy's face contorted a bit as he did as he was told and sat, drawing squeaks from the cheap plastic barstool top. 

"Not just yet, but Mr. Kang says that if we can keep drawing in this number of patrons, it could happen soon. He and his daughter have a few new ideas..."

"Great!" Howard said, genuinely happy. "That's great."

The dancer smiled playfully, pointing with his spoon. "Don't you mean Bruce, Howard?"

"I don't always say Bruce," he mumbled into his drink.

"Sure feels that way," Randy countered jokingly.

It continued on like that until their beverages were gone and paid for and the odd pair made their way home.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Howard called as Randy made to enter his apartment. The man flipped his head back around in that way that had his bangs falling seductively out of his face. The way that distracted Howard even now, months after the first time he'd seen it.

He inhaled the cool night air deeply, then released it in a thick cloud. The iciness helped him think. "I...have a prototype of a game I've been helping design. Wanna, maybe, come over to my crib tomorrow and play?"

Randy's bright blue eyes practically bugged out of his skull. "That would be so righteous!"

Howard grinned deviously, "Don't you mean, 'That would be the absolute cheese?'"

"Sure, Wienerman. Whatever you say." Randy laughed, wrapping his arms around himself as the biting wind picked up. Howard hoped it wasn't going to snow. 

"When should I be there? Around noonish?"

"Sure, that's fine."

"Don't you mean-"

"Alright! Quit taking the word 'bruce' in vain and go to sleep, Cunningham, before I uninvite you!"

Randy giggled excitedly and darted into his building without another word.

"Such a shoob," Howard whispered to himself as he strolled lazily up the street to his own place. It was so easy to joke with and be himself around Randy that the redhead absolutely didn't see the massive wave of anxiety coming once the dancer was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> So...what do you think? Should I change some tags? Have any ideas for future chapters? Just wanna say hi? Please feel free to comment! :D


End file.
